The Photo Album
by gudbooks
Summary: Harry and Lily look through the photo album. For people wanting harmless reminiscence with some crying! My first Fan fic so please R&R! Rated so for safety!
1. Chapter 1

**The Photo Album**

Chapter 1

The photo album was a heavy, red leather-bound book on the top shelf in the lounge. Lily danced excitedly as her father lifted it down. She loved looking at photos.

Harry sat in the comfy armchair, and lifted Lily onto his lap.

She ran her fingers up and down the old leather, twisted round to smile up at Harry and opened the album.

Lily and Harry had a routine when looking at photos. Even if she knew, Lily would ask Harry who some pictures were of and where they were. Harry loved answering her questions – it made him feel certain that his daughter would remember the people near and dear to him who had died, especially his parents, her grandparents, with whom the photo album began.

"Your grandma and grandad," said Harry. "At their wedding. Look, there's Sirius, my godfather."

"Luke told me that Sirius was a Death Eater and a murderer," Lily whispered apologetically.

She looked up nervously at Harry, hoping he wouldn't be angry.

"Lots of people thought so," replied Harry. "But Sirius convinced me, Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione that he was innocent when we met him in our third year. And then when the Order of the Phoenix was restarted, he offered his house and service to it. That's not exactly a Death Eater thing to do, is it?"

Lily shook her head, glad that her dad had straightened the story out.

"Why didn't Luke know that then?" she asked.

"His dad, Uncle Percy, wasn't in the Order then, and Aunt Penelope didn't know Sirius was innocent until I told her he was my godfather. Luke probably heard his mum and dad talking about it."

"Oh, OK," smiled Lily.

Harry looked down at his mum and dad's happy faces, and Sirius, laughing. He was glad that this was how his children would remember them.

"James was named after Grandad, wasn't he?" asked Lily.

"Yes, and you after Grandma," said Harry, pointing. "You even look a bit like her."

He knew Lily loved to be told this, and sure enough, she beamed, her face full of pride at his words.

"That's Great-grandma and –grandad, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yes," smiled Harry. "I never really knew them – if I ever did meet them I've forgotten. But look – there's where my dad got his hair from, his dad. And then I got it from him… and Al and James from me!"

Lily smiled as she turned the page, and then almost fell off Harry's lap in delight as she caught sight of the older Lily when she was a child. The resemblance was uncanny.

The younger Lily's hair, although inherited from her Weasley side, still more or less matched her grandmother's. Their eyes were roughly the same shape, if not the same colour, and their facial features, including their cheeky grins could have been identical.

The page of pictures of Lily showed her at first as a small child, then growing up – her first day at Hogwarts, standing beaming in front of the scarlet train; at 13, gazing in awe at the tawny owl perched on her arm; in a bright kitchen, dancing around with an envelope in her hand – surely her O.W.L results.

Yet in all these pictures, Harry could see (or knew) that his Aunt Petunia was there, watching, jealously angry at all the things she could never have, but her sister could.

He looked at his daughter's red head, bending low over each photograph, drinking in every little detail, trying to find something she'd never seen, to reveal another piece of her grandmother's life. He smiled – a smile full of love and pride…

Eventually, Lily turned the page, to similar photos of her grandfather; including a couple of Quidditch team ones.

James was in the middle of the front row, grinning cockily at the camera, his hair ruffled up, looking as always as though he really had just got off of his broomstick.

Harry looked at his 16-year old father with pride, imagining him Seeking in a match, lifting the Quidditch cup, celebrating in the common room.

It was somehow right that all the things James had done, Harry had done after him.

The people in the next picture all had something in common – they were dead: James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew.

"It's the Marauders," Harry told Lily. "They were all unregistered Animagi, but Lupin was a werewolf – they all turned into something different. Grandad turned into..."

"A stag!" exclaimed Lily.

"Yeah, and he was called Prongs. Sirius turned into a dog – he was called Padfoot. Remus was a werewolf, so he was called Moony and Peter turned into a rat, so Wormtail."

Harry's eyes lingered on that last person. How confused he was about his feelings towards that man!

He tried to weigh up all the terrible things Wormtail had done, lying and betraying his parents, framing Sirius, hiding out for so long, just to save his own skin. How could he have done that?

_But he was afraid, wasn't he? _he reasoned. _Voldemort was too powerful to resist…_

_But my parents did it, _came another voice in his head. _And others, lots of people decided to resist him and weren't afraid to die trying._

But for all that, Wormtail had spared Harry back in that dungeon. And he'd paid the price.

The look of horror on Pettigrew's face as his silver hand turned on him would stay with Harry for the rest of his life – he couldn't bring himself to rip him out of the picture, as if he had never lived, as if his bad deeds had obliterated his one good.

So Wormtail remained, happy and always looking slightly surprised at his acceptance. It was a better memory of him than any other.

At the bottom of the page, the whole of Harry's parents' year were smiling and waving at the camera.

Lily picked out her grandparents almost at once – her grandmother at the end of the second row, her grandfather just above her, with his hands on her shoulders. It was the seventh year photo, all the witches and wizards in it were preparing to leave their school and set out for the magical working world. How hopeful they all looked…

On the next page was probably Harry's least favourite picture – the first Order of the Phoenix.

As Lily pointed people out, Harry gave her their names and added in his head what Mad-Eye Moody had told them about them when he was 15 - _'she was killed two weeks after this was taken'; 'we only ever found bits of him'; 'they got him and his family'; 'we never found his body'; 'Voldemort killed her himself' – _and relived how he had felt when first seeing the photo.

The sight of his mum and dad, surrounded by friends, should have made him happy, but half of their friends were dead and they with them. And to see them sitting so close to their betrayer, their supposed friend, Wormtail!

But the reasons for Wormtail to remain in the album were fresh in his mind and he relented, trying to let his anger and sadness flow away.

Did they know, at the time, that they would die saving their son? Did they know that their son would eventually defeat Voldemort after 17 years of pain and suffering? Yet within those years, Harry knew that he had had happiness and laughter – with Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Ginny…

And that was why he had defeated Voldemort – to avenge his mother and father, yes, but also to keep those he loved safe. In that way, he felt more connected to his parents than ever – all 3 of them had gone to extraordinary lengths to save their loved ones. With that happy and uplifting thought, Harry turned the page.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry, the first chapter didn't have a disclaimer so here we go…

I own nothing in this story except from stuff that isn't in the books (I don't think anything fits this description). Please R&R, tell me what you think! Thanks to all the people who have reviewed so far!

Chapter 2

The next page brought a mixture of emotions for Harry.

They were baby photos…of him.

There was the ripped picture of him on a toy broomstick he had found at Sirius' house…

There he was, only days old, eyes starting to turn green; there he was, sitting in a high chair, mashing a piece of birthday cake in his baby hands; there he was riding on James' shoulders, almost knocking himself out on a lampshade; there he was, arms round the cat's middle , as it struggled desperately to get free.

It was hard to imagine that that was him. For one thing, the giggling baby did not have a lightning scar on his forehead, nor enough hair to resemble Harry's scruffy, untamed style.

For another, he didn't have any recollection of the moments the pictures captured – it was like looking into another world.

"That's you, isn't it, Daddy?" asked Lily.

Harry nodded. "Before Voldemort killed Grandma and Grandad and I went to live with your Great-Aunt and –Uncle."

Harry still used Voldemort's name. Ginny (and most of the other Weasleys) were still a little uncomfortable with it, but Ron and Hermione were more understanding and tried to name him properly. Because of this, Harry's children called Voldemort mostly as their dad did. Rose and Hugo called him Voldemort less, but Harry didn't mind. Lord Voldemort was no more – he wasn't going to start an argument over something as stupid as a dead Dark wizard's name. He was no longer to be feared, so Dumbledore's motto – "Fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself" – wasn't applicable.

Harry had never been so glad to find out that something Albus Dumbledore had said was (effectively) wrong.

The next part of the album was of Ginny's family. The first picture was of Molly and Arthur on their wedding day.

Mrs Weasley (as Harry still called her in his head) looked absolutely on top of the world. Their wedding had been in Voldemort's regime, but there wasn't anything to suggest this – all the faces visible were bright, happy, laughing.

A picture of Bill as a baby followed the wedding one, a chubby-faced, blue-eyed baby waving his arms about, the rest of him wrapped in a blue shawl.

Mrs Weasley was holding him and every so often he would grab some of her reddy-brown hair. Harry remembered his children, nieces and nephews doing exactly the same.

_It must be a baby thing,_ he decided.

Next was a photograph of Bill and Charlie – Bill about 3 and Charlie, 1. They were building a tower with slow-flashing coloured toy bricks. With each flash, they would change colour, and the two boys would laugh and knock the tower down.

"I used to play with them at Grandma's house!" exclaimed Lily.

"I think she originally bought them for Bill, and then everyone used them," replied Harry.

There were a few more photos of Bill and Charlie, sometimes with their parents, sometimes not. Then came three or four of Percy – looking very odd without his glasses – and a family photo outside the Burrow.

Arthur and Molly sat on a bench with Percy clutched between them. He looked about 1.

Bill and Charlie (5 and 3) stood in front of their parents, with their hair combed and wearing their best clothes. They obviously didn't like being dressed like that because as soon as the camera flashed they started poking each other, then ran off around the garden.

"They were quite rebellious!" smiled Harry. "Percy's the only child behaving himself!"

True to his later personality, Percy sat remarkably still for a baby and quietly watched his brothers dash about.

Lily smiled and turned the page, where she was greeted by the twins' mysterious grins.

"Uncle Fred and Uncle George," she said, with a tinge of sadness in her voice. "I wish I could have met Uncle Fred."

"I wish you could have done too," replied Harry.

_Your Uncle George isn't quite how he was without him._

"When did Uncle Fred die?" asked Lily quietly.

"When I was 17 – you weren't born," replied Harry, just as quietly.

"He never knew about me, or James, or Albus, or Rose, or Hugo…?"

Lily was close to tears.

"He didn't know about any of your cousins or brothers, no," replied Harry as gently as he could. He squeezed his daughter's middle.

"He knew Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur were married and that Teddy was born, though. And he probably guessed that me and your mum would end up married…"

Lily nodded and brushed away her tears.

_If Fred can see us now, _Harry thought. _I hope he knows we all miss him. I hope he knows that his nieces and nephews love him, even though none of them have ever met him. And above all, I hope he knows Voldemort is never going to terrorise his family again…_

Once Lily had recovered herself, they carried on flipping through the album.

They passed Fred and George many times, often playing tricks on people.

Then Ron appeared in photos. Harry picked out one – a bright-red-haired toddler clutching a teddy bear (was it the same one Fred and George had turned into a spider?). That one always made Harry laugh.

"Your Uncle Ron always tried to get rid of that one," he told Lily. "Good job Ginny hid it!"

Lily laughed along with him, then jabbed her finger at a baby girl, balanced on her mother's knee, surrounded by her five elder brothers.

"It's Mum!" she shouted.

"Too right!" Harry smiled.

In this photo, Bill looked about 11 – had he already started at Hogwarts? – Charlie was about 8, waving at the camera; Percy was 5, still not wearing any glasses!! ; Fred and George still looked toddlers; and Ron must only have been one because Ginny only looked a few months old.

The next photos were normal family ones – birthdays, Christmases, first days at Hogwarts…

It was genuinely like … well … magic, watching the Weasley children grow and become who Harry now knew.

He saw Percy getting his glasses, saw Bill becoming a prefect and Head Boy, saw Charlie in Quidditch team photos, a shiny Captain badge on his robes in the later ones; saw Fred and George fooling around on their broomsticks – how odd George must look to Lily, with two ears! (Harry's children had never known their Uncle George any other way, but Harry was still getting used to how George now looked. He tried not to stare at George, but didn't know if he actually succeeded.)

Some of the last Weasley photos were of them in Egypt – Fred and George trying to shut Percy in a pyramid, Bill talking with some Egyptian wizards, Harry's thirteenth birthday present Sneakoscope whistling and spinning next to Bill's soup, that Harry knew had beetles in, and finally the Daily Prophet photo of all the Weasleys and Scabbers - a.k.a Peter Pettigrew .

_Him again!_

Harry didn't want Wormtail in his head yet again, so he turned the page.

A/N: Hope you liked it! Tell me what you think I did well and what I can improve.

Next chapter is still being written so I don't know when it will be on!!!

Gudbooks

XxxxX


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thanks to all who reviewed

AN: Thanks to all who reviewed!! I know that some things I have included aren't in the books but allow me a little artistic licence, OK? Some cheesy bits and maybe it's a little bit lame in parts, but I wanted to finish this before I forget!!

Hope you enjoy!!

Chapter 3

The memories came flooding back. How amazing that a few photos could make him relive some of his happiest days.

A picture, oh so familiar, headed the page. A scarlet steam engine, leaking white steam from the funnel on top. A group of red-headed Weasleys, Ron looking nervous, Ginny rebellious. Harry could hear her words of that day: "_Mum, can't I go…" _and how she had wanted to rush onto the train to see his scar.

And behind the Weasleys, seemingly unrelated and unnoticed, had it not been for Lily's fingernail cutting off his head was….him.

The other people on the platform were saying goodbye to their families, last minute gifts being given.

But the eleven year old Harry stood there, watching the Weasleys and the adult Harry remembered something else of that day – feeling disadvantaged that Ron was going to be a better wizard than him, because Ron came from a wizarding family…how stupid and petty that seemed now!

And although the picture didn't show it, Harry remembered setting off on that scarlet steam engine, heading for the unknown _but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind._ He remembered thinking that, and now, how right he had turned out to be. Not just _better _than the Dursleys – it wasn't even in the same league. If he had known on that first, proper day of magic how happy he would be, how fulfilling his magical life _could _be… he wouldn't have believed it, he knew.

A practically identical photograph followed, only this time Ginny was beaming and Ron and Harry were nowhere to be seen.

_The flying car, _Harry remembered. He smiled.

"Why aren't you there Daddy? And Uncle Ron?"

Harry told her about Mr Weasley's enchanted car. It was something of a family story, but the kids always forgot when it had happened.

The pictures of Ron, Harry and Hermione's first year came next. One of Ron and Harry playing chess, garlands of holly hanging behind them.

Another showed Hermione almost hidden from view by a pile of books, although she was smiling – obviously not too near exams!

A couple were of the three of them in the grounds, relaxing or talking to Hagrid and the last was of them all together, laughing, in front the steps to the castle, after the end of year feast.

How long ago that was, 20 or more years. And his children were travelling the same path of magic and friendship, thankfully with the terrible threat of Voldemort removed, meaning they could all enjoy every second.

_Class of '91 _said the caption underneath. The whole of Harry's year waved up at father and daughter.

Lily quickly located Harry, Ron and Hermione, but took longer looking for some of Harry's other friends or parents of hers – Hannah Abbott ("That's Lucy's mum."); Terry Boot ("Isn't that Grace's dad?"); Seamus Finnegan ("Doesn't he look odd?"), and so on.

Harry also gave her names of other people, not always with such fond memories as the ones associated to the last group of people: Millicent Bulstrode ("Blimey I forgot she looked like that!"); Pansy Parkinson ("No idea where she is now.") and Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy.

Harry scanned back over the photograph, taking in every face.

_How many dead?_ he thought morbidly.

_These people smiling up at me…How did the war affect them? Deaths – their mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles and friends. Torturings – not knowing who would be next… the war is over... but what was the cost…?_

Harry shook himself mentally, and forced himself to look at his only daughter.

_This is why. To allow our children the freedom of a life without fear of the Death Eaters, of Voldemort._

**A/N: Sorry guys, I know Harry**_** is**_** quite morbid in this, but I think he would reflect sometimes…Don't get me wrong, he deserves a happy life, but I don't think he would forget what he and others went through…**

A similar picture, but of Ginny's year came after. Harry didn't recognise many people in this by name, but he did by face.

Colin Creevey, one of the dead of the battle of Hogwarts, stood in the middle of the second row, next to Ginny. Harry recalled him being carried into the castle after sneaking back to fight…

_He looked small in death…_

Colin's proximity to Ginny made Harry reflect more. Colin was not only close to Ginny in that way. Ginny could so easily have been in Colin's place after the battle – Harry still couldn't believe that so many had survived.

_That's the main thing, though. They did._

Lily looked over the photograph in the same way as the previous one. In contrast to her father, she knew more people from this photo – even though nearly 20 years had passed since it had been taken. This was because Lily had spent more time with her mother when she was little, meaning she had met more of Ginny's friends than Harry's. And she had a remarkable aptitude to recognising their younger selves in photos.

Quidditch photos were next – some the formal team ones, others of players in action. Lily tracked her 11 year old father across the pitch in different weather conditions – that match against Hufflepuff in the storm; the "luckily" perfect conditions of a sixth year match – and the finally the changing faces of the Quidditch team.

Other miscellaneous photos followed, including the Yule ball – not exactly Harry's happiest memory – visits to Diagon Alley over the years, Christmases at the Weasleys'….

Harry marvelled at the number – but other little things that had happened made him happy too – some things he knew would never be in a photograph.

_Hermione and Ron getting together for instance…_he thought. _After all that stuff in third year, I hadn't seen it coming!_

Sometimes their relationship had made him uncomfortable, sometimes had made him long for Ginny and other times scared for the other ones' feelings. Like when Ron left – Harry had been afraid Hermione's heart might break, or might blame him or give up…

So when Hermione kissed Ron in the Battle of the Hogwarts, Harry was relieved and positively beaming. But the shadow of what was to come hung over him, so he disguised his joy by breaking it up.

_But on their wedding day…_

Harry had been able to be truly happy for them then, safe, and happy and instead of being scared of what was to come, happy, looking forward to it, looking forward to it, looking forward to their future, all three together.

The weddings and the children's photos were Harry's favourites for that reason – giving hope for the future and reminding him of how precious his life of magic was.

He loved the way he and Lily could sit in such a companionablesilence when they looked at the photos.

He loved the way he found something new each time.

He loved the idea that these happy yet sometimes bittersweet memories would always stay in this red leather bound book and his head.

With these happy thoughts, Harry closed the photo album, replaced it on the shelf, hoisted his daughter onto his shoulders and galloped her up the stairs to bed.


End file.
